Snipewriter³

Snipewriter³

In the thick of the hatred,
I’ve swallowed my silence,
Yet simultaneously subdued,
The Snipewriter’s violence.
But I’ll restrain no longer,
As I twist with frustrations.
The Snipewriter’s returned,
But is lacking some patience.
Please do unto others,
As you’d have done to you,
Except in this world,
Where I make the rules.
I’ve written many a chapter,
And many a verse,
On this same sordid subject,
The Snipewriter’s curse:
Keep building things up,
To burn them back down,
Wash, rinse, repeat,
Then fall down and drown.
It sounds like a good job,
But can it get boring?
Absolutely not!
Do you hear me snoring?
What can be better
Than writing all day,
And creating a life
To just take away?
The alternative to this,
Is a grim one indeed.
There’s a very thick line,
Separating what you read,
And that of non-fiction.
Do not cross those lines,
Or the results will be severe,
There will be no warning signs.
I’ll rev up my hacksaw,
And sharpen the knives,
And see if you’re cat-like–
Will you have nine lives?
If I’m feeling generous,
Then the answer is yes,
But it probably won’t be,
At least, that’s my best guess.
Hell, why bring you back,
When I can create someone new?
Especially if that character,
Is better than you.
Who’s better than me?
Go ahead, answer that question.
Oh don’t look so glum,
I’m writing out your depression.
See? You’re happy now,
Hey, isn’t this swell?
Thank you for coming,
I’ll see you in hell.
How did you get there?
I’ll tell you in a jiff,
You see, what happened is
You fell off a cliff.
Damn, you’re clumsy.
Should have watched your step,
But instead you were watching,
My ever-growing pep.
My enthusiasm grows,
With each letter I type,
And my smile gets larger,
With each character I snipe.
So this game I’ll continue,
Forever and a day.
Yes, I’ll always snipe write,
To scrawl my sorrows away